


Soul of Soot

by exmachinarium



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:31:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1216132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exmachinarium/pseuds/exmachinarium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is very fortunate, very fortunate indeed, that even in his homeland his fighting skills are so grossly underestimated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soul of Soot

**Author's Note:**

> Just a nagging plot bunny that demanded to be let out of the cage. Doubling as a revamp of another fairy tale, because why not.
> 
> (Note: I do NOT intend to continue this story, it was just a one-time thing written for my own amusement. If anyone feels like continuing from here, you’re more than welcome.)

It is very fortunate, very fortunate indeed, that even in his homeland his fighting skills are so grossly underestimated. Only one or two of his brothers experienced the menace Hans can be even without a weapon… Unfortunately, neither lived long enough to tell the tale, poor sods. As for the guards, they had some idea of fencing, but once Hans got his hands on a stray dagger they should have dropped whatever they were holding and fled.

Ah, but who’d bother with the guards. Now it was time to find a shelter. This close to the border and in the state the journey home has left him, he should be unrecognisable enough to pull off the ‘ambushed traveller’ act… He stopped as if in an afterthought and shed his jacket, the only remnant of his (so-called) royal glory. There, that’s better. Now he must only find some remote house and…

"Good evening, your… Former majesty. Are you sure you won’t be keeping that jacket? I believe nights are rather cold even so far south."

Hans spins around, landing in a practised battle stance, dagger at the ready.

"Now, now, is that how you greet a friend?" asks the voice, this time coming out of a rather portly, rather older man with curiously bright eyes.

"I believe that ‘r’ got there by mistake, sir." Hans snarls between teeth. He’s really in no mood for useless chit-chat with someone who can potentially blow his cover… Or even worse, handle him back to the authorities.

"My bad, prince Hans," the man smiles and now in spite of himself Hans shudders in… Fear? "I should have said ‘prospective employer’."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you have markings of a man incredibly well conditioned to aid my enterprise, so to speak."

"More matter with less art," the prince grows impatient; after all, there might be reinforcements on the way. "Who are you, pray tell?"

The stranger cringes a little, as if the word ‘pray’ has lost its favours with him. Then, as if to repay Hans in kind, he takes time to extract a pocket watch from the confines of his coat, making a show of examining the dials. Hans has just about decided to get rid of him and carry on, but then the stranger finally speaks up.

"What you need to know, prince Hans, is that I, as a rule, detest resorting to crude and straightforward answers; but for you I shall make an exception - just this once, mind." He took off his odd hat. "Prince Hans, I am what you might call the Devil."

Hans wants to laugh at the madman, he really does. But his throat is suddenly choked, as if there was a firm grasp around it, daring him to utter a squeak in order to tighten the grip. He doesn’t panic, not yet. Choosing his fight wisely this time, he waits until he’s free to breathe and speak again.

"Am I allowed to know what task awaits me?"

"Of course, dear prince," the Devil almost beams at him, "why else would I bother to find you in person? Since you have so readily agreed to serve me, I must let you know the full extent of your duties. You will start off as a stoker, minding the everlasting fire under the cauldrons containing those infinitely less fortunate than yourself. You will not be allowed much sleep, the food will be scarce and ashen in taste, and you will not be allowed to bathe or change clothes."

Here the Devil smiled and took a few steps ahead.

"I can see your mind is reeling already. You asked yourself a number of questions just now, no? ‘What do I get from this? Is it even worth it? Wouldn’t it be easier to just refuse and die right this instant?’. These things you must figure out by yourself, Hans. What I can promise you, however, is that there is indeed a price for your efforts."

With that, he began to move towards the fear-stricken prince more deliberately, the edges of his form blurring and reshaping before Hans’ very eyes.

"Should you prove true to me and diligent in your tasks, you shall advance to be my clerk, then secretary, and then…" the Devil was nothing but a blurry silhouette now, "If the stars of my domain look favourably upon you, who knows? You might even become-"

Hans choked on a yelp as a cool hand grabbed him by the chin and forced to look at the face that was the exact reflection of his own.

"Me."


End file.
